


Roses to Orchids

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 06:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama
Summary: Romance can come in the strangest of places...and from the most unexpected sources.





	1. Roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wintertree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintertree/gifts).

Cassandra tipped her head back, rose-scented steam condensing against her neck and shoulders - and ankles. Anything that was outside the decadent bath she’d not had the strength to resist when Josephine purchased it. It was a perfect end of the day; one quick bucket to get rid of the dried blood, and then this one to remind herself she was a woman as well as a warrior.

_ ‘Roses don’t make me think of sex.’  _ She snorted at the mild disgust in Iron Bull’s remembered voice, and took another sip of the strong red that she’d brought with her. She didn’t care about  _ sex.  _ Sex was cheap. Easy. This was about herself. For a moment, though, the overheard conversation from Chantry  _ Sisters  _ came to mind - no. “No, I think not.”

The flirting was fine. It was an - interesting - experience. Gaylen had never dared flirt; not with she being a Seeker, and he an Enchanter. Even if the flame had died out of their relationship, his loss at the Conclave still ached. So. Flirting? Certainly. Anything else? No. She had her duty, and she had her books and bath. It would do.

**

When they returned from Fallow Mire, it took _ two  _ buckets to scrape off enough of the muck to feel human before she was willing to go near her steaming tub. The servants - or Leliana - knew her well enough to have the water near boiling, the better to release the scent. One of them had sent up chocolates as well - what a kind thought. Cassandra leaned back over the tub and two vertebrae popped back into place. The Inquisitor had done well, Cullen’s troops were rescued - she put it all out of her mind and lazily bit into another chocolate before dipping her fingers in the water. Drying them off, she turned the page of her current indulgence.

Vivienne was a woman of taste -  _ and  _ a woman more than happy to share what she’d found. Discretely.

**

“You look pretty rough, Seeker. That shoulder…”

She shook her head, annoyed. “Yes, Bull, I am aware.” Foolish to have misread the attack so badly, and being in the practice ring made it little better. “Unfortunately, the Inquisition has no masseuse among the throng. I will be fine.”

It would hurt for days, but she was used to that. Ah, the joys of a body that was no longer twenty.

The Qunari looked down at her. “If you have oil, I can work out the knots.”

Surprised, Cassandra studied him. No, this wasn’t the earthy flirting he’d done off and on in the field. It was an offer, one warrior to another. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “Do your thing - when should I come by?”

Oh, a bath would feel lovely. “An hour or so?”

“Done.”

This time, she hurried through the quick rinse to get to the heat that would help weary muscles. There would still be sweat, but it was a clean smell rather than the combination of gore and travel had they only returned to Skyhold. Her internal clock was as accurate as ever - she was laying on her stomach, sheet pulled up to her waist, for about five minutes before there was a knock.

“Enter.”

It was Bull. He paused, his nose wrinkling for only a moment, before closing the door behind him. For his sake and her own, she’d found unscented oil. It was what she used on her blade, but that didn’t matter.

He poured some of the oil on his hands and rubbed them together to warm it before touching her back. They were as large as the rest of him, but it hadn’t quite sunk in until his palms were digging against her spine. “Relax, Seeker. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Oddly enough, she believed him. With a sigh, she let herself relax that little more. He was quite good, really…

She woke later, the sheet and blanket pulled up over her shoulders, and smiled to herself. Bull was more of a gentleman than he’d admit.

**

“No, not roses.” Not when she was going to get another backrub to try deal with the fact she’d had to carry the Inquisitor halfway up the mountain. There was time to eat. “Lavender or violets, if there are any.”

With an Orlesian merchant in Skyhold’s lower courtyard, there was every sort of flower. The servant nodded.

“Thank you.”

That evening, Bull chuckled. “Something different, Seeker?” His hands felt so good, she sighed.

“I thought it would bother your sensitive nose less.”

Even with the rumble of true laughter, the movement driving out her knots didn’t stutter. “It’s your bath and your room, Seeker. Lavender makes me think of soap. Or,” he continued thoughtfully, “that one area out in Crestwood where we killed those Venatori bastards.”

Cassandra didn’t stop the disgusted noise that thought brought up. “You have no romance in your soul.”

“Just because I don’t like a flower?” Bull snorted. “Whatever you say, Seeker.”

**

She’d never bothered with any fancy undergarments, even if she’d wistfully admired them in the various storefronts or on the heroines she read about. Her lips twitched when she opened the nondescript box and found a few sets. “Barding on a mule,” Cassandra muttered, but that didn’t stop her from stroking the silken fabric. Who could have…?

Leliana wouldn’t have - they’d known each other too long for something like  _ this  _ to come out of the blue. She flipped the page of her newest book, idly wondering. It must have been Vivienne. She had both the taste and the contacts to the fancy merchants, though it made it even less likely they would be in her size.

In either case, her bath - and book - awaited.

_ She broke the kiss with a gasp as he pinned her arms behind her. “What are you doing?” _

_ He smiled wolfishly down on her. “Something different. Do you want me to stop?” _

_ The slim woman knew what her answer should be. Yes, she should want it to end, but it was Lord Otherian, the man who’d haunted her dreams as she’d realized how completely they’d both left childhood behind. He’d never hurt her. _

_ While he waited, Otherian stroked her face and ebony hair with his free hand. “It’s your choice. Always,” he whispered. _

_ No, she didn’t want him to stop. _

Cassandra felt her brows rise, even as she couldn’t resist reading on. “How...strange.” Not that it mattered; she towered over most of the men she knew, and could best the others in strength with few exceptions. The water was getting cold, as the scent of hyacinths faded around her. Instead of continuing, she slipped a ribbon between the pages and stood to dry herself off. Almost, she reached for the chocolates and book. Instead, she brushed water-softened fingers against the lingerie that had so mysteriously appeared.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try it,” she declared to the empty room.

Of course not. Who would see or know? Her rooms were sacrosanct both due to her position and the way she’d shouted out the one messenger who had failed to understand the gravity of his trespass.

It wasn’t what she’d call ‘pink,’ nor was it scarlet. The satin-and-lace concoction was something in between, a full and lush color that was as decadent as the fabric. “Foolish and useless,” she murmured to herself, but she still tied the ridiculously narrow ribbon just beneath her breasts, then slipped on the matching...underthings, even if the top didn’t reach low enough for them to be under  _ anything.  _ Somehow, it fit. “I must look ridiculous.”

Cassandra couldn’t bring herself to find a mirror. Guiltily aware of her own indulgence, it wasn’t like it mattered how it looked. She liked how they felt. This  _ was  _ her time for herself. Now, she took the last of the chocolates, poured the fina glass of wine, and took both with her book to curl up under her sheets. Even if no man could see  _ her  _ like this, it didn’t matter right now. What  _ did  _ was the enjoyment of pretending.

She’d have to thank Vivienne in the morning. It was an incredibly thoughtful gift.

**

Vivienne’s perfect eyebrows rose. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my dear. The only thing I had sent up were a few new novels recommended to me by a fellow connoisseur.” She chuckled - not cruelly - and continued. “You seem to have a suitor, Cassandra.”

“Nonsense.” 

“As you will,” the First Enchanter shrugged casually. “In any event, do tell me whether the second is any good? I kept two and passed the others to you. I have to say, the first  _ I  _ was reading attempted a little too hard, and accomplished too little. You can tell it was written by a man, ‘Lady Petalfeet’ notwithstanding.”

“It’s different,” Cassandra admitted, grateful for the change of subject. “I think you might enjoy it.”

A suitor? She’d been able to put the thought out of her mind as she and Vivienne chatted for a few minutes on the different authors and why so few  _ men  _ could write romance rather than...well, the more crass version. It came back after, and she dismissed it again. There was always Josephine; she’d been trying to get her to wear finer things around Skyhold.  _ ‘You are too intimidating, Cassandra! The nobles who come are allies, not annoyances!’  _ The fact they were both didn’t change the Ambassador’s determination.

In either case, she had no desire to ask  _ how  _ Lady Montiliyet had managed to get her...measurements so exactly, especially when she wore armor most of the time.

**

“Still reading the same book, Seeker?”

Cassandra flushed at the faint amusement in Bull’s voice. At least his hands didn’t change their cadence, getting out the kinks from something worse than battle: etiquette. She hadn’t had  _ etiquette  _ lessons since she was fifteen, but Josephine would tolerate nothing less before Halamshiral.

“It is nothing.”

Maybe the Qunari wouldn’t notice the ribbon was at an  _ earlier  _ point in the book than before.  _ The spy,  _ a part of her mind murmured, but it was a quiet one. Why would a spy care that she was re-reading the mysterious book? Vivienne hadn’t asked for it with the others, and...it was very different than most they’d found. The lady in question was no weakling, but the relationship between her and her Lord suitor was much more...experimental than she had read before.

Once again, she regretted for a moment that she was who she was. A moment only; sense reasserted itself quickly. She had been the Right Hand, she was a strong second and advisor to the Inquisitor, she had built this, had stopped the Breach, had managed to free the Templars from the horrors Samson was corrupting them with - the mental recitation stopped the moment she remembered what was to come next. Cassandra heard the groan slip out of her.

Bull stopped. “Seeker? What’s wrong?”

“Not you,” she said, unable to shake her head at the moment. “Halamshiral.” Her lip curled as she spoke.

“Ah. It won’t be that bad.”

Cassandra raised a brow, not caring if Bull saw it. “Oh? Why is that, exactly?”

He chuckled. “I’ll be there. No one will notice you unless you challenge someone to a duel, set the ballroom on fire, or wear a dress.” She tensed, despite his work on her back. “Oh, not like  _ that.”  _

Sometimes she could consider killing him for being so perceptive.

“You’re the Right Hand of the Divine, and the Right Hand of the Inquisitor whether he’s said anything or not. They’ll expect you in armor or a uniform. Wear a dress and let them see the woman instead of the warrior? They wouldn’t know what hit ‘em.”

That was almost a flirt, yet he’d never once flirted in her rooms. It was an unspoken agreement; here, they were honest with each other. There were no masks or ridiculous comments to wile away the hours of relentless boredom punctuated by combat. 

“Are you flirting with me?”

He chuckled, his hands moving again to soothe out the tension his words had accidentally caused. “With dogwood and jasmine in the air? Never. Well, not here. It makes me think of some lapdog of a noblewoman, all fripperies and lace.”

**

At Halamshiral, they’d danced. Why, she wasn’t sure; she blamed it on the slightly bubbly wines the servants had passed out far too enthusiastically, and her desire to get the taste of Orlesian ‘manners’ out of her mouth. In either case, it wasn’t the disaster she’d expected. Bull was a much more graceful dancer than she’d supposed.  _ ‘Combat, Seeker, is more useful than you’d think. It teaches flexibility, reading your partner, and the ability to work together.’  _

Perhaps.

Now that she was safely back in Skyhold and stripped of both the dreadfully  _ obvious  _ uniform Cullen had designed for the Winter Palace and her usual armor, she finished her book and slipped into another of the fripperies that the still-unidentified person had gifted her.  _ Josephine,  _ Cassandra told herself again. It had to be her.

The knock on her door startled her into setting the chocolate back with its fellows. “Yes?”

“It’s me. Bull.”

With his distinctive rumble, it’s not like he needed to identify himself. Panic flared through her and she started up to find a shirt - breeches -  _ anything  _ to cover up what she was currently wearing. ‘Clothing’ was too generous, even if it almost certainly cost more than any actual outfit she had purchased. 

Common sense reasserted itself, and she sat against the headboard of her bed, pulling the sheet decorously up to her hips. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her naked, and it also wasn’t like he would be - interested. “You may enter.”

Bull’s eyebrow rose as his head cleared the doorway, but he neither grinned nor laughed as he carefully closed the door behind him.

“I’m interrupting.”

“You are fine,” Cassandra retorted, ignoring the book at her side. Bull, however, didn’t.

She watched as he brushed a finger against it, looking at her for permission. With a nod, she gave in. It’s not like its title wasn’t blazoned onto the cover. He flipped to the marked page. She watched, but no expression crossed his face.

“It’s ridiculous, I know, but…”

A hand rose. She paused. “It’s not.”

“What? There is no way that a lack of sight would have that sort of effect on taste.” Cassandra felt her cheeks warm as she realized she’d told him that she knew the passage well enough just from the bookmark to argue with him over it.

Bull set the book pages-down, still holding onto the long ribbon. “Oh? But it does, Seeker. Here, wrap this around your eyes.”

This couldn’t have been why the Captain of the Chargers had come to her rooms, but she doubted the obstinate man would deign to answer a reasonable question until she tried the ridiculous experiment. It wasn’t perfectly dark, but good enough.

“Well?” She acknowledged it was disorienting, especially knowing that there was light.

He chuckled, and then something brushed her lip. “Open,” he rumbled.

She  _ knew  _ it was a chocolate. She’d already had several of them tonight. And yet. Cassnddra caught her breath. The explosion of rich sweetness was much more intense than it had been previously.

“Well?” The repeat was deliberate, she knew it.

“You may have a point.” The ribbon was untied and her book rescued from the abuse, set properly to one side. “In either case, why did you come?”

Bull shrugged. “You didn’t seem pleased with the Grand Clerics. I figured you’d want to talk. You don’t deserve that sort of crap, not after everything else.”

“It was unnecessary,” Cassandra said gently, “but thank you.”

“Well, then.” He stood, towering over her, and turned to leave. Just before he opened the door, he tossed back an offhand comment. “Red suits you, Seeker.”

That...that... _ Qunari.  _ She hadn’t even realized he’d noticed.

**

It was an offhand remark, overheard as Cassandra made her way from one end of Skyhold to the other to deal with the Quartermaster, that almost made her stumble.

A giggle. “Oh,  _ Blinded by love?  _ The handsome - and  _ large  _ \- Lord Otherian was inspired by our own  _ dashing  _ Captain of the Chargers.”

“No! The Qunari?”

The third chuckled in return, his own voice kept low. “Oh, I can assure you it is true. The author was informed by...more than just rumors, lucky woman that she is.”

He…

Bull…

_ Well. _

That was...she couldn’t quit thinking of it. Bull. Inspired  _ Lord Otherian.  _ But he wasn’t just...quick, or casual! It was romantic, wildly so, along with the - well, the rest. The thoughts occupied her up until the Quartermaster interrupted them.

She glared at him. “What do you want?”

The poor man’s eyes widened. “I don’t know! You...I...you walked in here? I...want to help you?”

Rather than handing the man the list she’d come in with, she held it in front of her and read it off. “Three wagons of salted meat,” and then her mouth kept going, “and fourteen yards of silk rope.”

The Quartermaster blinked. “Fourteen?”

She couldn’t back out of the situation. “Forty. I said forty.”

“I...of course, Seeker. I’ll get all of this ordered immediately.”

**

It was ridiculous, she thought as she relaxed in her bath. Nonsense. Yet she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Instead, she stirred the cooling water, whatever flowers giving off a spicy fragrance. They were small and yellow. In either case, she was towelling off when a now-familiar knock rattled her door.

“What is it, Bull?”

It wasn’t like he knew, Cassandra told herself.

He opened the door, a thick coil of rope in his other hand. “Quartermaster had a delivery in this afternoon; you weren’t back yet, so I signed for it. He figured the stranger stuff was for the Chargers anyway.  _ This _ wasn’t on the manifest I got from our ambassador, so I thought I’d deliver it privately.”

The towel hung from one hand, luckily covering most of her body. Unfortunately, it couldn’t cover her flaming face.

Bull chuckled. “Thought it was something more...personal. Here you go. Remember to be careful.”

“It wasn’t - it was - “

It was a disaster, is what it was. Cassandra closed her eyes and tried to start over. The Qunari saved her from that as he looked at her.

“You’re curious.”

She sighed. “Yes.”

Bull had stepped closer. “That’s fine, and I’ve got experience. It’s something you have to be careful with, though. My rules: I will not hurt you, and you will be blindfolded. If you want to stop, say so.”

She stared.

“What are your rules?” He prompted her.

What...what...Cassandra swallowed. “I can get myself free.” Instead of her normal tones, that came out husky. She was insane. On the other hand, Bull was right; he had experience  _ and  _ she trusted him despite her own senses.

**

Her arms were splayed above her head...it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but neither was it painful. “Is…”

“Shh,” Bull rumbled. “Here.” A rope was placed in her left hand. “Pull, and that arm is free. Enough to get the other untied. Do you understand?”

She nodded, the darkness...interesting. Light creeped around the edges, just enough to emphasize what she  _ couldn’t  _ see. “I do,” she said aloud when nothing happened.

That was when she felt lips - not on hers, but on her wrist just below the lines of silk. Cassandra couldn’t  _ not  _ gasp at the sensation. It was worse when he kissed the inside of her elbow, or when a thumb brushed along her collarbone...and later, the lower curve of a breast.

“It’s the combination,” Bull murmured. “The almost-helplessness - the body reacts. And with one sense muffled, the others are heightened.”

Cassandra didn’t try stop herself from moaning - or from asking for more - as he explored. Then one of his hands slipped between her thighs.

By the time she was gasping in the aftermath, he kissed her temple. “You’re safe, Cassandra, and can let yourself free whenever you want.” He hadn’t - the only parts of him that touched her were his hands and lips.

“Bull?”

He chuckled. “No. Now is not the time to add on more. Take some time to reflect and decide what you want. Besides, marigolds are fine for play, but they make my skin itch.”

**

Cassandra couldn’t  _ not  _ remember. After a time, she’d freed herself just as he’d promised she’d be able to; she’d washed in the cold remnants of her bath, and gone to sleep. Bull hadn’t taken his own pleasure - though if he were serious about marigolds, ‘pleasure’ might not have been the operative word.

In either case, she turned away from  _ those  _ inconvenient thoughts to something more important. Cassandra turned the page of a different book - a much older book. One that had been written in many different hands, back to the last Inquisitor. The information hurt. The  _ lies  _ hurt.

“For so long,” she murmured to herself, then held her head in her hands.

There were no tears. Cassandra knew why; she was a warrior. The woman - the woman had nothing to do with the Seeker. Tears would not fix the Order’s mistakes.


	2. Orchids

“Seeker.”

She turned from her pell. It wasn’t hard to fight down the flush - out here, what had occurred between them so many weeks ago was nothing but a dream. A  _ vivid _ dream, but one with no bearing on the Inquisition. “Yes, Bull?”

“You’ve been at it for a few hours. Shouldn’t you call it a day? Eat something. Wash up.”

Washing...now her skin grew tighter. Still, this was Skyhold’s courtyard, and she was no girl. “Perhaps,” Cassandra conceded. “Would you come by after? To...discuss matters?”

His lip edged up just enough - there were advantages, she realized, to such a subtle man. There may be less outright courting, but it also meant there was more privacy. “Sure thing, Seeker.”

**

Whatever petals were floating in the water tonight, she recognized neither them nor the subtle scent they gave off. For tonight - oh, no. Cassandra relaxed, but didn’t open her book. Even the bottle of wine was left mostly-abandoned, only one glass poured. 

After drying herself off, she looked through and picked out one of the little bits of naughty...playfulness. Bull liked red, did he? On the other hand, it was the green that caught her attention despite the fact the top...didn’t ‘top’ enough. Making up for it by having deep emerald wisps of fabric covering her arms didn’t change the fact that the bustier, while supporting- didn’t actually  _ cover  _ anything. The strip of satin ribbon what hugged her hips wasn’t much better, but...well.  _ Who,  _ she wondered again,  _ had gotten these?  _

There was something else that had wound up near her bath. It didn’t take long to realize that it was a blindfold, also satin, that was designed for its purpose. 

So. Bull may have managed...Cassandra didn’t even question how. Bull had a way of becoming friends with people. Instead, she sat in the center of her bed, in self-imposed darkness, to wait.

The low chuckle startled her. He hadn’t made a sound, even opening the door! “Rules: you will be safe. If you want to stop, say ‘Chantry.’ I take the lead.”

Cassandra swallowed and nodded, trying to track his voice. “My rules,” she murmured, adding what she’d thought about during her bath, “you...find your pleasure as well.” This time, she said nothing about having her own way out. After the other encounter, she didn’t think she needed it.

“Agreed.” His voice was warm, and had moved somewhere else. “Stand on the floor, please.”

It wasn’t what she’d expected; then again, when had Bull  _ ever  _ been what she’d expected? Rather than argue or question, Cassandra did so. In the darkness, everything was different. She couldn’t see him, but  _ he  _ could see  _ her.  _

“I like it,” he rumbled in her ear, and it went straight to her bones. His hands - she’d  _ known  _ how large his hands were, but it was somehow different feeling them on her shoulders, rolling them further back. “Stay like this.”

Rope wrapped around her shoulders, passing behind the nape of her neck and then looping off against her spine. When she shifted, she realized she couldn’t roll her shoulders back forward - instead, they were held like this, her already-exposed chest pushed even more to the forefront. 

Was it the same rope, or another? Bull guided her hands together, then wrapped rope not around  _ them,  _ but around her biceps, pulling them closer behind her back. “Is this comfortable?”

Cassandra considered. “Nothing is uncomfortable,” she eventually responded. “Different.”

He made a brief sound under his breath, then did something that brought her arms even closer together. “There,” he said in satisfaction. Her hands were still free, but with what he’d done to her arms she couldn’t bring them far forward at all. It was just enough that her reaching fingers found Bull’s waist about the same time she felt his chest brush hers. “Very nice,” he murmured. “Can I unpin your hair?”

“Yes.”

One by one, the pins wrapping her thin braid around the crown of her head were removed, leaving it to drop down her back. The sensation was almost unnoticed, buried under the feel of Bull’s skin against her own. She’d never felt  _ small,  _ not since she was twelve, yet she did again when he picked her up at the waist and sat, her straddling him.

“It’s all about trust,” Bull’s voice continued against her ear. “Trust, and freedom.”

That made no sense. It took little time to realize that whatever he’d done to tie off the ropes, having her hands free was meaningless when it came to reaching the knots, much less undoing them. “I’m not free.”

“Oh, you are. You are free to relax. Free to feel, free to abandon yourself. There’s no point in worrying about anything outside the room because you can’t do anything about it.”

Cassandra still tensed.

“What do you need to say for everything to stop?”

She blinked, unseen. “Chantry.”

“There. You have all the freedom to enjoy, and don’t need to worry. If anything happens you don’t want, say ‘Chantry’ and I will stop.”

To not worry...not have to react, have to be strong was something unusual. The one experience was well, one thing. This - the other was a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. This time it was something else, and Cassandra felt wanton, in a way she hadn’t even with Regaylen. As much as she loved the man, he’d been - the weaker in some ways. This was different.

Totally different, as Bull caressed and complimented, tracing the lines of the lingerie she would never have had the courage or initiative to purchase - she would  _ have  _ to find a way to thank Josephine eventually.

‘Eventually’ didn’t matter now, not as she wiggled, frustrated by the games he played with her body and senses. Pushing up, she found his chin with her nose - but that meant even without sight, she knew how to find what she was looking for. Bull chuckled and broke off the kiss by pulling lightly on her braid - enough to pull her head back, willing or no. “Impatient, are you?”

Cassandra shifted against him, feeling his interest and desire was as apparent as her own. “Determined,” she threw back with a breathless voice.

“I agreed, Cassandra.”  _ Andraste,  _ her name shouldn’t have that effect on her, even in  _ that  _ tone of voice. But it did. “Trust me, we’ll both find plenty of pleasure. But this is not just sex.”

Not just - what else  _ could  _ it be? In either case, she was pinned by one piece of rope, and one hand wrapped around her braid while his other traced the lines of satin across her body.

She bit her lip. “Please, Bull.”

Now it was his turn to growl. “You do know how to get a man’s attention.”

The rest was an almost blur, as desire rose only to be either released - without being sated - or left to linger and make her moan. He played with her, teased her...complimented her. Finally, he did find his own pleasure as well as let her take hers, encouraging her to ride him, still bound. Still helpless.

How long was it until she opened her eyes, the sharp spice of his skin almost-normal to her senses? Enough time had passed that the blindfold and rope were as long-gone as the satin she’d ‘worn.’ Bull’s thumb rubbed along the deep marks the rope had left in her bicep.

“I should…”

Bull made a low noise in his throat, and she paused for a moment.

Cassandra sighed.

Obstinant man.

Instead, she tried a different tact. “Apparently, those flowers did not offend you.”

“Of course not. I asked the merchant to find orchids weeks ago.”

_ What?  _

“Why orchids? Wait,  _ you  _ asked the merchants to find flowers? For my bath?”

She felt his chuckle through the heavy muscle under her cheek. “Ask your First Enchanter about orchids - or Josephine. You’ll understand.”

Somehow, Cassandra never got around to telling Bull he really should leave her rooms and find his own.

**

The next morning, she woke alone - but with the blindfold set on the table next to her bed, and the rope coiled neatly and tucked on a shelf beneath. Cassandra hid her flush, especially as she’d had no complaints. Instead, remembering the hazy conversation, she headed off to find Vivienne.

“Orchids?” The First Enchanter raised an eyebrow. “If this is your mysterious suitor, he has impeccable taste. Orchids are rare, expensive, sensual, and beautiful. They are far more challenging to find than they seem, especially when not in bloom. Yet they can thrive in the most unique of circumstances.” Vivienne glanced at her face, and smiled. “I’m happy for you, my dear. It looks like it  _ is  _ a suitor after all, and not that book you have yet to pass on.”

Oh. Yes, the book. “I haven’t quite finished with it yet.”

“Of course.”

The flowers...the chocolates…

Cassandra realized she wasn’t going to thank Josephine for the mysterious lingerie. Instead of travelling toward the war room, she made her quiet way to a bench in the gardens. This early, the annoying gossip of nobles had yet to wake, leaving her in peace.

If she weren’t mistaken, none of the gifts over the past month had been from either Vivienne or Josephine. More, there was only one person who would know her...dimensions.

She smiled to herself, quiet and content.

Perhaps she had been mistaken about him. Especially as she realized it had been at least as long since she’d heard any reflections on Bull’s particular set of non-combat skills. There was romance - and a gentleman - hiding under that casual, rough exterior. 

“Cassandra?”

She turned her head enough to acknowledge the heavy grey figure who’d almost snuck up on her. “Bull.”

He didn’t touch her, but she could feel him behind her. Cassandra took the initiative. “None of it was from Josephine.”

“No.”

“Or Vivienne.” Oh, there were advantages to an intelligent man who usually knew far more than he let on. They could have this conversation, and she didn’t need to add in all the details.

“No.”

She was brave on the battlefield, but Cassandra couldn’t quite bring herself to look at him. “Why?”

“Hm…” he murmured in his throat. She kept from reacting - at least visibly. “Because of the difference between roses and orchids. One’s just fine for a while, but the other - the other is worth hunting for and treasuring. Orchids only bloom when they want to. Stubborn things, but beautiful.”

Now Cassandra chuckled, leaning back until she felt heavy muscle rock-hard against her back. “And if you’re mistaken?”

“I’m not.”


End file.
